It Turned Out to be a Useful Fraudulent Marriage Chapter 3 - 1. Precognitive dream

In fact, I’ve locked eyes with this man several times throughout the party today. I thought it was just a coincidence, but now it seems otherwise.

 

‘He was sizing me up, looking for something to mock me about like a Southern bumpkin.’

 

I observed his expression, which seemed to want to mock me and belittle me for being a bumpkin from the South.

 

Receiving disdainful looks from someone didn’t feel good, but I was not someone who would easily succumb to the clumsy provocations from the young master, an aristocrat raised in the capital without any shortcomings.

 

“I’m sorry. I’ve been rude, my lord.”

 

I deliberately lowered my gaze and bowed my head slightly with a face tinged with a hint of fear.

 

When dealing with nobles, it’s always important to instill a slight sense of awe in your eyes. Nobles are truly amusing creatures who only feel comfortable in the superiority they exert over others.

 

However, despite my humiliation, the young master showed no sign of backing down.

 

“Rude? Do you even know what true rudeness is, Emeline Wedgwood?”

 

“W-What do you mean by that…?”

 

I looked up at him, putting on a performance with all my might, even deliberately let out my trembling voice while maintaining a humble attitude.

 

His red eyes, which were difficult to read, pierced through me.

 

I gritted my teeth inwardly but tried to maintain my submissive attitude.

 

The wedding is in a week. I mustn’t cause trouble until then. At least not until then.

 

I was struggling to contain the desire to just grab the man in front of me like a bull and throw him away.

 

Then Eric spoke.

 

“What can you say? I am talking about how your mother dares to take the position of Duchess Orleans, Emeline. I really don’t like you and your mother. Your brother would be better. At least he doesn’t act.”

 

Eric raised his hand with a threatening expression.

 

Oh, how cliche the plot is getting. Violence, huh? I closed my eyes tightly and gritted my teeth as the typical flow of the story unfolded. I refrain from biting down on the tender flesh inside my mouth because if my mouth were to bleed, it would be difficult to eat for a while.

 

But something strange happened.

 

“…?”

 

“…?”

 

No, it’s not happening?

 

I opened my eyes. Then I saw Eric Orleans there, looking at me strangely.

 

“Why did you close your eyes?”

 

I inadvertently blurted out my thoughts in response to his words. “W-weren’t you going to hit me?”

 

Eric Orleans looked displeased at my words. He glanced at me up and down with a displeased expression, then said. “… You’re talking nonsense.”

 

Eric Orleans seemed genuinely upset.

 

“Do you see me as such a lowly person?”

 

It seemed like I had trampled on his pride. After saying that, Eric walked out onto the balcony. Just before completely leaving the balcony, he added.

 

“Next time you feel like someone is about to resort to violence against you, don’t close your eyes; avoid it with all your might and make a formal complaint. Do I have to tell you every little thing, Southern bumpkin?”

 

There was a faint trace of disdain mixed with very slight sympathy in his voice.

 

‘….’

 

I remained on that balcony for a long time.

 

I got caught. That I’ve experienced being hit before. That’s why I’m afraid of getting hit. I felt more ashamed of the fact that I was caught than the fact that I received his disdain.

 

I came out only after I was sure Eric had disappeared from near the balcony.

 

As I wandered around the party hall, I gulped down several glasses of apple wine offered by an old woman. It seemed like I couldn’t bear it without doing so.

 

‘Ah, Mom told me not to drink alcohol…’

 

‘Now we can be happy too.’

 

I had a feeling that my mom’s words wouldn’t come true. Memories of misfortune linger in one’s mind for a long time.

 

The old woman looked at me as if urging me to gulp down the apple wine and then muttered something strange.

 

“The apple in that wine is magical. It prevents misfortune.”

 

“Yes, yes, I guess so.”

 

“Do you know the three functions of dreams?”

 

“Yes, yes, is that so?”

 

While I was giving a half-hearted answer and gulping down the wine, the old woman said a few more words and disappeared.

 

✵ ✵ ✵

 

I got sick because I drank so much.

 

And now I’m going to meet Eric Orleans.

 

I went down the stairs, thinking that it would be more inconvenient to go to see Eric Orleans than to see a lady who was unpleasant to me and my mother.

 

Why did he come in person? I heard that nobles delegate even the smallest tasks to servants, so why did he personally come, especially when the issue of the wedding gift had already been decided?

 

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my steps slowed down. A familiar voice spoke in a sarcastic tone.

 

“You’re late for receiving guests.”

 

I barely moved my lips to answer.

 

“I apologize, I overslept….”

 

As I was reminded of last night’s events, I bit my lip for no reason. I felt a tingling pain spreading on my lip.

 

Then, Eric Orleans, who was waiting for me while standing instead of sitting on the reception room sofa, looked at me and frowned.

 

Navy attire. A neat cravat. Even the direction in which he raises his head.

 

How can this be?

 

It was confusing.

 

Because Eric Orleans’ appearance right now was exactly the same as I had seen in my dream last night, where I had fallen asleep after consuming the strange apple wine given to me by the strange old woman yesterday.

 

I clenched my fists, recalling the bizarre nightmare from last night. The nightmare began when Eric Orleans dressed exactly as he does now and said this.

 

‘Are you a child? How can you still bite your lip?’

 

“Are you a child? How can you still bite your lip?”

 

Wow, creepy. It’s just like I saw in my dream. What do they call this…?

 

As I was contemplating about that, a maid appeared with a tray of hot tea.

 

I remembered the old woman’s words who gave me the strange apple wine.

 

‘Dreams have three functions: one is to recall the past, another is to fulfill secret wishes, and last is to imply the future. Never ignore the implications dreams offer.’

 

Implications of the future.

 

I recalled last night’s nightmare as I staggered on the last step. I barely managed to stand upright and looked down at my hands.

 

The scenes from my dream were still vivid in my mind.

 

Was all of that… a glimpse into the future? It couldn’t be.

 

But then it happened. Just like in the dream, a maid passed by Eric’s side, carrying a tray with a hot teapot. In the dream, the maid tripped over a piece of firewood left on the carpet after another maid cleaned the fireplace and spilled the hot tea to Eric—

 

I intervened, reaching for the tray the maid was carrying. As a result of the momentum, the teapot containing hot tea spilled onto my hand.

 

“Ouch!”

 

A sharp pain spread through the back of my hand. I let go with a pained face. The tray fell to the floor with a loud noise.

 

“Emeline!”

 

Seeing my reddened hand, Eric called out my name with a surprised expression. But I had no interest in Eric rushing to find cold water. My attention was solely focused on the spot where the maid had nearly stumbled.

 

On the carpet.

 

There remained a piece of burnt wood, just like in the dream.

 

“Are you okay? Why did you intervene? It would have been better if the hot water splashed towards me….”

 

Blah blah blah.

 

I don’t remember Eric’s next words. My mind was already filled with thoughts of last night’s dream.

 

For example, the scene of me, my mother, and my brother dying horribly.

 

‘Emeline. In fact, Duke Orleans married me because of the land left behind by Viscount Wedgwood.’

 

The day before her wedding, which should have been her happiest day, Mom looked pale and said that.

 

In my dream, my mom said that Duke Orleans didn’t fall in love with her at first sight but had other motives for marrying her. In the dream, I couldn’t understand my mother’s words.

 

Viscount Wedgwood was Mom’s fourth husband and a completely despicable man. The bastard, who was addicted to gambling, racked up huge debts, was chased by a loan shark and fell off a cliff to his death.

 

He had previously left Mom a small piece of land on the coast, which was already—

 

The damn Viscount already pawned that land everywhere to the creditors. Do we still have it? Even so, the debtors would—

 

Mom looked at me for a while with fear in her eyes before hugging me tightly.

 

‘… Mom? What’s wrong? The Duke won’t marry you without that land? It’s a small piece of land in the countryside, why would he… before the wedding, to the wealthiest person in the capital….’

 

My mother shouted in a panic.

 

‘Don’t ever talk about Duke Orleans covets that land anywhere! Absolutely not!’

 

‘Okay, I get it. I get it! It hurts. Could you… ease up on your hand….’

 

Mother let go of her hand as I cried out in pain from the shoulder she was holding.

 

She walked into the bedroom with a trembling gait. Her back looked very frail.

 

The dream continued to unfold vividly after that.

 

The next morning, my mother put on a glamorous dress adorned with lots of jewels with a lifeless expression.

 

It was the wedding dress mother had chosen.

 

When my mother and I were left alone in the bridal waiting room, I said seriously. ‘If the Duke is going to act like that over a piece of land, let’s just run away. Whether rich or poor, marrying someone who has lost their humanity is a fall into ruin.’

 

I refrained from saying, ‘You’ve already experienced it, right?’ and sighed deeply instead.

 

For your information, all of my mother’s husbands were similar.

 

‘Or, rather, we should go to the Duke and tell him it’s all a misunderstanding, apologize for not mentioning the debt earlier. That’s what a kind and ordinary person does, Mom. When there is a misunderstanding or a lie, they confess their mistakes and bow their heads to the other party.’

 

Even in my dreams, strangely enough, I thought of Eric Orleans while saying those words.

 

A man who always has an arrogant expression on his face, considering his pride more important than his life, and has no hesitation in correcting his own mistakes.

 

Is it right to call someone like that a kind person?

 

… I don’t think so.

 

‘Mom said that if you become a duchess, you will live kindly. Let’s live kindly. okay? Let’s stop doing bad things.’

 

Mom smiled faintly at my words and smoothed my cheek with her weak hand.

 

‘You don’t know, Emeline. The Duke… he will never let me go. Even if it means holding onto my corpse. As collateral.’

 

While I was dumbfounded, the maids came into the bride’s waiting room.

 

I didn’t know what it meant back then.

 

That’s how my mother held the wedding ceremony. With a face drained of life, she stood next to Duke Orleans, who looked as affectionate as ever.

 

Time in the dream flew by in a frenzy.

 

My mother, my brother, and I were busy receiving greetings from the Duke’s immediate and collateral relatives, and vassals for a week. Thanks to that, we had no time to discuss the land left by the late Viscount.

 

Then one night, my mother rushed into my room and urgently handed me an envelope of documents.

 

‘Emeline! Wake up. Take this document and sneak out the back door to the nearest police station. Once there, mention the name of a prosecutor, Patrick….’

 

When I asked what it meant, still half asleep, a maid’s voice calling for my mother echoed from the hallway.

 

My mother went to the slaughterhouse like a pig being dragged away.

 

I sat dazed for a moment before starting to gather items in the room that could be worth money, starting with the candlesticks, anything that is as easy to convert and as light as possible.

 

What my mother was saying meant that I had to escape from this mansion.

 

I was rather relieved. I was sick of pretending to be a delicate and shy noble daughter from the countryside, and it was unpleasant to see my mother pleading like she had committed a big sin in front of the Duke day after day.

 

Yeah, you awful nobles. I’m leaving.

 

I wasn’t originally a noble.

 

My father… I don’t even want to think about it. Anyway, neither my mother nor my biological father came from noble backgrounds, so I am not a noble either.

 

I packed my things without opening the documents as my mother instructed.

 

The only thing I didn’t obey was waiting for Mom and Philip after climbing out of the window and standing in front of the back door of the mansion.

 

Even though our family was poor, we had always stuck together.

 

When we fled from my mother’s third husband’s brothel and we roamed the streets, when we got beaten up at the restaurant where we all worked, and when we ran away with the restaurant’s money.

 

Always.

 

We’ll be together this time too. I believed so.

 

Once the three of us left the capital, even if it meant starving, we would live properly without having to rely on those crappy stepfathers, relying on our own strength.

 

Maybe we could set up a small stew shop in the countryside with the silver candlesticks and gold decorations I brought. The chicken stew my mom cooked was quite tasty. Phillip wasn’t good at business, but he was good at speaking, so he could handle the sales, and I could take care of the accounting and management since I was good at it.

 

As I imagined the small stew shop in my mind and looked toward the mansion…

 

The sound of two gunshots rang out from the mansion’s direction.

 

Bang! Bang!